Paperwork
by TwelfthPrecinct
Summary: This is an entry for the 1st ever 12th Precinct Castle Valentine's Fanfic Competition. Author s pen name is: "you vegotthis" 1ST PLACE WINNER FOR JUDGE S VOTE!


Title: Paperwork

His mother suggests a diamond ring, or perhaps a nice onesie. She thinks she's funny.

Esposito suggests lingerie, but he's tried before, knows that Kate considers that a gift for him, not a gift for her.

And as it turns out, Ryan's gift to Jenny _is_ a onesie.

Valentine's Day gift, he should have this, he's supposed to give her something that she asked for when she didn't think he was listening. He used to be great at that.

But then she went and let him see her naked.

It's really hard to listen after that.

* * *

He's started a new campaign, a Valentine resolution of sorts. Listen for _the gift_.

"Remind me to get coffee creamer," she tells him absently, filling out a form while he stretches out in his chair playing the latest version of Angry Birds on his phone. He can't help glaring at her.

She's giving him nothing.

* * *

Three days in, they solve the case. He might have helped her solve it quicker, but the whole time he's been mildly distracted.

Kate smells like Fracas.

He takes his place at the corner of her desk, a little more settled now that he has reservations at The Four Seasons for the weekend and her gift tucked in his pocket. Bracelet: simple, elegant. Not super personal, but no Christmas debacle. Jewelry. It's exactly what she asked for.

"Happy?"

She gives him a quizzical look.

"You got what you wanted, case solved before our weekend," he points out.

"Not solved Castle, finished."

"I believe you said, 'put to bed,'" he says with the waggle of his brow.

"Yeah, well, it's not either of those things so long as there's paperwork."

And that's when he realizes. He's gotten her the wrong gift entirely.

* * *

He suspects she doesn't like it when other people show up at her door unannounced. Not him of course.

"Castle?" Oh, she knows what he's after, she will never get this workload finished if he distracts her.

Loaded down with bags and balancing two coffees, he side-swipes her with a kiss to the cheek as he moves to dump his burden on the kitchen counter, leaving her to shut the front door.

"Castle, I thought we talked about this before I left the precinct," she says, following him, "if you want us to have a romantic weekend, I need to finish my work tonight."

"That's why I'm here," he says, sliding his hands under her crossed-arms and around her waist, "You got paperwork? Writer to the rescue. I am _great_ with paper. "

She doesn't uncross her arms.

"Castle, you can't be here."

"You won't even give me a shot at being the perfect partner?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "Four years, Castle."

"Wearing you down, Kate. And look where we are now," he says swaying her body like she's a pinball machine, trying to shake her out of her doubt. "I'm your partner, I just want to pull my weight."

And then to prove it, he pulls his hips into hers.

* * *

"This stack needs a transfer of just the basic information, case number, my badge number, name of suspect, date, then you attach this to the front of my notes, like this," she says indicating what to do, "I'll sign them later."

"Thrilling," he says dryly, running his pinky-finger down her arm.

She stops and stares.

"I'm sorry, are you complaining to_ me_ about having to do paperwork? Do you even know how many interviews we have conducted over the years?"

Kate knows he thinks if he doesn't meet her eyes, it will somehow soothe the beast.

His once-bold digit withdraws quickly.

She slides a stack in front of him and slips into her paperwork mode.

It takes all of two minutes before the vibration in the floor from his restless, shaking leg is driving her crazy.

"Castle," she chastises, not looking up but putting her hand on his knee.

"Sorry."

Another minute and he's tapping his pen to some imaginary tune.

"Castle," she meets his eye and he stops.

Kate speed reads through half a stack of affidavits that need her signature before

she feels it.

His toe on her shin.

Not an accident.

"Castle," she warns.

* * *

He doesn't meet her eyes; he's learned that puts an end to a lot of fun. Besides, she'll forgive him, maybe he can move this night along.

It's taken a few minutes, just long enough for her to get back into the groove, when the foot is replaced by his hand. This time, it's on her knee.

Maybe if she ignores him he'll go away.

The hand moves to her thigh.

* * *

He can't help it, she's adorable, tip of the pen in her mouth, ribbons of curls slung over one shoulder exposing that long column of kissable neck. Her perfume.

He knows what logic she's using, and you'd think for such a smart detective, she learn how much he loves it when she tries to disregard him.

Challenge accepted.

It's too late by the time he realizes he has underestimated her response because as soon as his hand slides up her leg, she's standing over him, his wandering hand now in one of her crazy ninja holds.

"Uncle, Uncle!" he's shouting.

If she breaks his wrist it is totally going to ruin their Valentine's weekend.

She doesn't let go, but she does back-off enough so he'll listen as she hisses, "Are you here to make things easier or harder?"

Oh, not easy to let _that_ opening slide.

"Don't you know you make my . . ." he glances up and down, "_life_ harder?"

She presses on his hand again. He's pretty sure he heard something crack in there.

"Ow, ow, Ka-ate. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."  
"And now you see that is exactly the problem Castle, I don't think you are sorry."

"Kate, wait."

He's in trouble; she's headed for the front door.

* * *

"Okay," he says a bit breathless from chasing after her, grabbing her arm, spinning her around, "okay, just . . . listen for a minute."

"Listen? The way you listen to me when I say I need to get this work done?"

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, before the words come out in a desperate tangle to appease her, the words rushing out of him, "I wanted to give you something. Something special for Valentine's Day, I couldn't think of anything good enough, and after the misfortunate Christmas situation, I just wanted to do right by you. And then I thought, 'what would make Kate happy?' And I realized it was the perfect partner. One who does paperwork, and I'm sorry I got all carried away, it's just . . . it's hard to be around you and not touch you. And it's kind of your fault because you smell good and you let me do stuff with you and oh my God, sometimes I just can't think about anything but you. You do that to me you know? So really . . . this . . . is . . . your . . .fault." He kind of wishes for one of those slow bullet scenes from The Matrix, only with the words he just uttered. Maybe he could reach out and pull them back.

"My fault, huh?" Her raised-brow expression gives away nothing.

He doesn't quite know how to read her, but he may have just ruined them. He's an idiot.

He's pretty sure he just saw her twitch.

"Come on Castle, we have work to do."

* * *

"Finished mine," he declares. And then his eyes fall to her stack of work.

"You still have more to do. Do you want me to help you?"

Dumfounded, she stares at him.

"You were right," he says pausing, "all that staring _is_ creepy."

* * *

"You. Doing paperwork."

"I've always suspected I was in your dreams Kate Beckett."

She can't believe she's going to tell him this; she'll never live it down. It might be better to distract him first.

She takes the pen from his hand and stands over him as she slides a hand across his shoulder and back, slipping down perch on his knee. "If I'd known all I had to do was cave to your sexual harassment to get you to do all this, I would have done it years ago. You could have saved me a lot of time at the precinct."

"Liar," he accuses, more interested in the sweet spot on her neck than her words.

"Eh, you'll never know, but I'm pretty sure this would have shaved some time off that four-year wait."

"Oh well if that's the case, you can watch me clean this up later." He stands, holding her to his chest as he sweeps the desktop with his free-hand, knocking almost all their newly-minted files to the floor.

Almost all.

Kate buries her head in his shoulder as he tries again, she can barely contain her laughter as she watches him throw a pack of paper clips, followed by a stapler, over the edge of the desk to make a truly clean sweep.

"Suave," she teases.

"It will be when I write it."

She can't help smiling at him, "Castle, you make me happy. Perfect or not."

"Are you ever going to admit what makes you hot for me Detective?"

She doesn't reply, just leans in where old perfumes of past insecurities are overwhelmed by a touch of lips, a play of tongue, and a taste of future hope.

And then his hands are under her hips and he's lifting her up to sit on the edge of the desk. Face to face his hands lovingly brush the hair off her cheek and she can't help but admit the answer, whispering in his ear, "you smell like ink."


End file.
